


A Good Night's Sleep

by The_Muses_of_Mars



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Muses_of_Mars/pseuds/The_Muses_of_Mars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor thinks to intimidate Jace into submission to punish him for his smart mouth, but he proves you can’t mess with the master of bamboozlers. (A one-shot retelling of Jace’s internment in the Silent City prison, in which Jace gains the upper hand over the Inquisitor and the City is not attacked.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Night's Sleep

Jace yawned.

The old bitty had been going at it for quite a while—lecturing about this, yelling about that—and it felt like she was sucking all the air out of the room.

The Inquisitor was probably spewing some harsh words, if Maryse’s expression was to be believed. But Jace couldn’t be sure; he’d nearly dozed off where he stood in the Institute’s library, taking his licks like a champ. Maryse jumped in occasionally with some limp defense or lame protest, but he wasn’t sure why she was wasting her breath; grandma had a bone to pick and she wasn’t leaving till it had been picked clean.

“Are you listening to me, Jonathan Morgenstern?”

Jace blinked blearily, rousing himself to reluctant consciousness. “Oh, are you still talking?”

“You—! Such insolence!”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Insolence?” he repeated mockingly.

The Inquisitor had a deep red flush creeping up her throat to stain her cheeks. She looked pissed. Now he’d done it. What would be his punishment? Was she going to yammer at him until he dropped dead right here on the library floor?

“You’re no different than your father, that vile, supercilious degenerate!”

Now Jace looked at her like she’d grown a second mouth right between her eyes. “That vile, supercilious degenerate?” he parroted back at her. “Look, lady: here in the twenty-first century, we just call that kind of guy a ‘douchebag’.”

“Jace!” Maryse gasped.

The Inquisitor’s mouth had fallen open and her lower jaw was working. For what was probably the first time in her life, she was speechless.

Too bad it couldn’t last.

“You impertinent little whelp!” the Inquisitor snarled. She folded her arms across her chest menacingly. She looked suddenly composed, though no less furious. “Fine. We’ll just have to do this the hard way. We’ll see if you don’t sing a less contemptuous tune after a night of solitary confinement—in the prisons of the Silent City.”

Maryse gasped again.

Jace mirrored the Inquisitor’s stance, folding his arms across his chest. But he matched her grimace with a grin. “Are you saying I’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip?”

The elder Shadowhunter smiled back at him, but her eyes were filled with malice. “You won’t be smirking after a night in a dark, dank dungeon, I assure you.”

“But Im—Inquisitor,” Maryse pleaded once more on Jace’s behalf, “he’s only a child. He has already agreed to a trial, and he’s given no real cause for us to doubt him, let alone assign a punishment fit for only the vilest of villains.”

“Douchebags,” Jaced jumped in, correcting her vocabulary.

This time both women glared at him.

The Inquisitor stamped her foot impatiently and pointed demandingly at the door. “March, mister!” she ordered. “Straight outside and we’ll be on our way.”

“Hey!” Jace argued. “I just got woken up to come in here.”

“So? What’s your point?”

“I gotta take a leak.”

The Inquisitor frowned. “What?”

“You know.” Jace lowered his arms, tugging on the wasteband of his jeans. “I need to take a piss.”

She huffed.

“Come on. You can put me in whatever prison cell you like, but you can’t tell a kid he can’t pee.”

Clearly flustered, the Inquisitor adjusted her collar. “I’ll be outside waiting,” she said, addressing Maryse.

When she had vacated the library, Maryse gave Jace a look of exasperation.

He shrugged back at her. “What? I gotta go.”

 

Jace turned on the light as he closed the bathroom door, then locked it. He began to whistle with content amusement, but rather than unzip his jeans, he walked over to the sink and reached up to open mirrored door to the cabinet above it. It didn’t make a creak, revealing an array of hygiene products and—bingo!—a bottle of Izzy’s sleeping pills. Ha! No way was that ancient bat going to interrupt another nap for Jace Wayland!

Jace whistled louder, though he doubted anyone was actually standing on the other side of the door. He unscrewed the lid of the medicine bottle and shook two pills into his hand. He glanced at the label to check the dosage, then shook out two more. Then he stuffed the four pills—twice the normal adult recommendation—into a pocket, then recapped the bottle and tucked it back where he’d found it, closing the cabinet door. He was going to make sure he got a good night’s rest, whatever the Inquisitor intended.

 

Later that night, Jace found himself chained by his right wrist inside a cell in the deepest recesses of the Silent City. It was dark in the prison, so dark he couldn’t see the chains he could distinctly hear. The old bat had probably meant to cause him some grief by doing that; it wasn’t necessary, since his cell door—which he couldn’t even see—was locked and barred. But it ended up only being a mild annoyance, since he wasn’t even right-handed.

What was more annoying were the sounds that echoed in the blackness. He heard other prisoners in their cells, the clinking of their chains and the rattling of their cell doors. If he’d had to spend the whole night listening to that, he wouldn’t have been able to catch a wink of sleep. But he had a pocket full of Ambien and he was probably going to have a more restful sleep than he had since before he met Clary Fray and gotten into this whole life-altering mess.

Jace reached into his pocket, where the elongated white pills had warmed from the heat of his body. He took one and popped it into his mouth. It was chalky, but not too nasty. Still, he grunted as soon as it went down his pipe, wishing he had a drink of water. “Lousy room service,” he muttered to no one in particular. “I’m complaining to management when I check out tomorrow.” He jammed another pill between his lips.

He sat down on the cool prison floor and closed his eyes. He’d barely caught a glimpse of his cell before the Silent Brothers had abandoned him here, but he’d seen enough to show him that he hadn’t been given so much as a mat to lie on.

Someone was weeping down the hall. Jace tried not to imagine who. He was locked down here amongst murderers, after all. He sighed and began counting sheep. Thinking about murderers was probably just what that crone had wanted him to think about. She’d wanted him to dwell on it all night while he paced his cell restlessly and cried for his mommy. Well, that wasn’t about to happen!

Sleep wasn’t happening after ten minutes, so Jace swallowed the last two pills. He stretched out flat on his back, hands resting comfortably behind his head as he tried counting sheep again. He imagined soft, fluffy wool, so light it carried the cute, tiny sheep across the sky whenever they jumped. They leaped into a starry twilight in slow motion, floating in an arc to the sweet, gentle lilt of harp music…

He only counted to three before he drifted off with a relaxed smile on his face.

 

Jace was awakened some time later by the screeching of his cell door as it scraped against its rusty hinges.

He sat up and stretched, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the flicker of torchlight. When he could see, he took in his visitors: Brother Jeremiah, two other Silent Brothers, and…the Inquisitor.

He yawned exaggeratedly. “Morning already?” he asked sleepily. “If you give me five more minutes, I’ll take back what I said about the room service.” He reclined again.

The Inquisitor growled. “Get up, Jace Wayland!” she sighed, sounding defeated.

Jace grinned. He’d gotten her to say his name. Not only had her plan to break him backfired miserably, but he’d turned the tables on her and put her in her place.

The old bag was already storming to the staircase to escape the dungeon. Jace followed Jeremiah, the two nameless Brothers bringing up the rear of their entourage. He was led straight to the front gates of the Silent City; obviously they meant to release him already.

Outside dawn had only just broken, so the light wasn’t hurting Jace’s eyes at all. He saw Izzy, Alec, and Maryse standing just outside the gates, waiting for him. He gave them a smile and a wave.

The siblings looked at each other in confusion.

“Jace? You’re…” Isabelle began.

“…fine,” Alec finished. He looked to their mother sharply. “I thought you said he was being tortured!”

Maryse wrung her hands, then reached out for Jace. “My dear boy, are you all right?”

Jace felt everyone’s eyes on him, but no stare was half so anxious as the Inquisitor’s.

Jace grinned. “I’ve never had such a good night’s sleep.”


End file.
